The Redemption of Ron Weasley
by MBurris
Summary: Hermione isn't sure she wants to marry a gormless idiot, so instead of accepting the proposal, she begins an interrogation. There were things going on behind the scenes that changes a lot of what she knew.
1. Chapter 1

**Ah, Disclaimer!** Thou that art necessary, but unwanted, but always assumed! As if people should be reminded that I am but an intruder upon the 'Verse, furtively attempting to fix egregious lack of awesomeness and nonsensical character decisions in the shadows of stories I do not own ...

-xXx-

"Hermione, will you marry me?"

He was on his knee, with the traditional ring-in-a-box held in an upraised hand. His expression was hopeful, and had his usual optimistic cluelessness.

Hermione hesitated. "Stand up, Ron. Before I answer, I need to know something."

He stood, slipping the ring box into his robe's pocket. There was no doubt, hesitation, or, well, _anything_ , going on beneath his surface emotions. In her mind, she snorted. _This is_ Ron _we're talking about, there's barely anything going on_ on _the surface._

"Sure, what to you want to know?"

"Ron, do you promise to answer my question completely, with no deception, regardless of what I ask?"

He frowned a bit in thought. "Okay, but you have to promise in return that you will keep my answers secret unless I give permission. I will answer all your questions, but you will keep my secrets for me, right?"

 _As if Ron has any real secrets_. "Okay …." As soon as the first syllable was out of her mouth, Ron grabbed Hermione's arm and towed her along as he ascended the staircases of the Weasley home. Up they climbed, until finally, at the fifth floor, they stopped and entered Ron's bedroom. Rom drew her inside, closed the door, and with this wand, poked the molding around the door – it slid downward, revealing an extensive array of miniaturized runes. A muttered incantation later, and the runes lit while the molding returned to its original location.

Ron smiled genially at Hermione's confusion. "It's the most complete security rune system I could fit into the space I had. As long as we don't start screaming, nothing we say can be detected outside."

"But … but … you didn't even take Runes!"

"Well, no. I stared reading Bill's Runes and curse-breaking manuals when I was about seven. Taking Ancient Runes at Hogwarts would have been boring."

Blink. _Wha?_

"Um, Hermione … Hermione …"

"What? Oh, right … So why didn't you take arithmancy?"

Ron shook his head. "I had access to Bill and Charlie's books, right? So when I read the arithmancy texts, it was obvious that arithmancy has nothing to offer except a more refined version of Divination." At Hermione's blank look, he went on, "I play chess, Hermione. The logic involved behind the arithmetic and algebraic operators isn't a real challenge to me."

She shook her head and refocused. "Why did you leave during the hunt?"

Ron was a little thrown by the change of subject. "It's … a little complicated," he hedged. "How much time do you have?"

"As long as you need." Hermione's expression promised dire consequences for an incomplete explanation.

Ron then settled Hermione on the bed, and he pulled the desk and wardrobe away from the opposite wall with a flick of his wand. He took down the five eye-wateringly orange posters of the Chudley Cannons with another series of wand movements, laying them carefully on the desk. The absent posters revealed a group of mis-colored rectangles on the wall; Ron tapped two of them with his wand in a staccato rhythm, and the wall faded. Hermione gasped. Behind the wall was a shallow compartment, showing a series of small notebooks – easily over a hundred – and a whole bunch of pegs, from which dangled two …

"Time turners!" Hermione gasped. "How did you get them?" She whirled to Ron. "Where did you steal them from?"

Ron chuckled. "They were given to me, and there's just two, now." He sat down on the chair. "I originally had a few hundred, because every time a messenger came back to deliver a notebook of instructions, they would hand me their time turners, and then disappear. Over and over again," he said softly.

Hermione sat down on the bed with a whump, bouncing slightly. "Explain," she said curtly.

Ron sat back and put his hands behind his head. "When I was almost seven, I got an … unusual … visitor. It was myself. I – He – gave me two time turners, and a notebook. All he said was, 'These are for you. Read everything first.' So I did."

"But … time turners can only go six hours into the past, and that's only if you've got one of the powerful ones! How did a six year old you get two of them!"

Ron smiled easily. "From me of course – the six hours in the future me. And from the six hours ahead of him, and the six hours ahead of him … a long way in the future, a Ron Weasley obtained two of the best time turners in existence, and made a plan that killed off the world that he knew. And every six hours before his decision, the prior Ron Weasley made the same decision, until it got to me."

"What did the notebook tell you?"

Ron shrugged. "It set up the procedure for using the time turners for an extended trip: when they were to be used, what information needed to be passed along, the obligation that I've … given to myself, I guess. I was instructed to study runes and charms, runes for application and theory and charms for power, and to conceal my abilities as best I could by emphasizing my natural state of idiocy."

Hermione snorted. "You did _that_ well."

Ron took no offense. "Thank you," he smiled easily. "I was given exercises to do that would strengthen my core, and I learned how to put together my essential spell book – the spells, curses, and jinxes that I needed to use to complete my mission."

"And what mission is that?"

"Why, to keep you and Harry alive so that Tom Riddle could be sent to a permanent death."

Hermione frowned. "Why me? I mean, I understand Harry, but …"

"Because you help keep Harry alive, and because you prepare Harry for his fights. My job was to make sure that you were effective … and to whittle those fights down a little, so that Harry could win," he admitted.

"What do you mean?"

Ron settled back and began the story.

"The protections around the Philosopher's Stone in our first year were all put there by Dumbledore and the teachers, right?"

"Of course, Ron."

"And we found that we were able to get around those protections fairly easily, right?"

"Well, there were some scary moments …"

"Did it ever occur to you that the protections were kind of tailor-made for our group?"

Hermione's eyes grew wide.

"And just why did Dumbledore commission a logic problem if you weren't part of the Chosen One's group at the time the obstacles were placed?"

Hermione stopped breathing for a moment. "So that means …"

Ron picked up the sentence for her. "…that the obstacles were chosen by someone with a knowledge of the strengths of the team that would face them." He nodded. "A version of me went back to before first year – not all at once, in a relay," Ron hastily added, "to guide me into maneuvering Dumbledore into placing the obstacles that we needed to be there."

"Just how did you do that?"

"Um, we'll discuss my methods later."

Hermione was still in thought for a moment. "So how did you finesse our second year's adventures?"

Ron shrugged. "Think back to all our time at Hogwarts."

Hermione nodded.

"Did you ever hear of anyone breaking their wand except for me?"

Hermione's eyes closed as she thought back.

"And if anyone did have an issue with their wand, how did their parents and the staff of Hogwarts react?"

Hermione whispered, "They took care of it immediately."

"So it was very anomalous that my semi-broken wand was kept in that state for a while, isn't it?"

Hermione quickly straightened up. "But Harry's fight against the basilisk! How could you know that he would live though it?"

Ron shrugged. "Well, a phoenix can cure anything. And I persuaded Dumbledore's phoenix familiar to turn up at the right time, with the right weapon, and the right defense. It wasn't a perfect solution," he admitted, "I ended up rejiggering the timeline going back and forth trying to make it so that roosters were available – but every time I tried that, the end result was losing about half the students in the school as the basilisk was sent on a rampage. My last time through, Harry apparently said that he would be willing to put his life on the line to prevent that, so I went back and arranged for Lockhart's spell to bring down the ceiling, so that Harry could take out the snake."

He paused. "It was a gamble, but it was the only path I could find that didn't end up with massive deaths. We didn't end up with _one_!"

Hermione murmured, "Not even Mrs. Norris."

"Exactly!"

"So what about third year?"

Ron smirked a little. "Do you believe that time travelling is a dangerous thing to do?"

"Of course!" She was definitely exasperated now.

"So why would a thirteen year old girl be allowed to have free access to a time turner just to take more school classes? Shouldn't that be reserved for attempts to remake causality?"

Hermione was stunned. _Why_ _ **did**_ _they let me do that?_ "Um …"

"It was the neatest solution to rescuing Black from being summarily executed. It allowed Harry to rescue himself and Black from the Dementors, and – almost as importantly – it gave you an experience with your limits."

"Why was that important?"

"Because if you truly feel like you can do anything, you overload yourself and have a breakdown on the Hunt. Harry dies protecting you from the Snatchers."

"Really?"

"There were a few other considerations, too. You could have had the brush with your limits in fifth year, but that would have made everyone if Gryffindor a little on edge, trying to deal with your manic studying, and our grades would suffer." Ron's smirk was back. "And I figured that you and Harry should have your own time turner adventures. Spread the fun around, like."

Hermione sighed. "Fourth year?"

Ron sat forward. "That was tricky. Every report I got from up the timeline was that Harry didn't take the Tournament seriously if I was around him, so we had to fight so that he would prepare himself. I really hated to screw up the Ball for you and Harry, but if you had gone with your preferred partners, Skeeter's character assassination would have hit before we could have countered it, and then we would have lost all public support, and the rest of the fight would have gone downhill. It really was an issue of sacrificing one night's fun so that we could have an easier time for the next three and a half years."

"And the Tasks for the Tournament?"

Ron tiled his head. "I think that what you're really getting at is why didn't I make everyone's life an easy walk in the park and get all the obstacles out of the way?" Hermione nodded. "At no point did a future Ron Weasley, full of knowledge, cunning, and immense power, ever show up and save the day. What I got was a letter that passed through a long relay of postmen, and I had to change what I could however I could." Ron got up and looked out through the window, facing away from the girl sitting on his bed.

"It was just me. It was always just me."


	2. Chapter 2

**Ah, Disclaimer!** Thou that art necessary, but unwanted, but always assumed! As if people should be reminded that I am but an intruder upon the 'Verse, furtively attempting to fix egregious lack of awesomeness and nonsensical character decisions in the shadows of stories I do not own ...

-xXx-

Chapter 2

Ron: "It was just me. It was always just me. I had to put the pieces in place, and trust that they could handle it. I was forever exercising my magic to exhaustion, even before I came to Hogwarts, and I was able to use compulsion charms – and," he added, bobbing his head to the side, "a bit of runic enchantment, to get Dumbledore to move in the direction we needed."

"Was he the only one?"

Ron snorted, "Not even close. Fudge was a blithering idiot because he was being imperioed and obliviated right, left, and center by his allies, so I threw my efforts into the mix, too." He grinned. "His bowler hat was enchanted to make him indecisive. Frustrated Malfoy and the others to no end." Ron sobered. "Cedric's death was an unfortunate mix of Hufflepuff nobility and Potter fairness. I couldn't encourage Cedric to take the cup before Harry, and I can't ever manipulate Harry's choices, so …" Ron looked up at Hermione from where he had been studying the floor. "No matter what, you can never tell Harry that he was even partially responsible for Cedric's death. It was Pettigrew that fired the curse, it was Pettigrew's fault, and Harry should never have to shoulder that guilt." Ron's eyes were fierce, and Hermione nodded her agreement. She swallowed and regained her train of thought.

"And the next year?"

Ron sighed. "What I can do is less about magical power and more about access. I could find a way to get to Dumbledore. Fudge would meet anyone that could imply there was publicity in it for him. Items with compulsions enchanted into them were easy to distribute among Hogwarts students, and from them, on to their parents. But Umbridge? She was very distrustful of everyone, hated muggles, creatures, and 'blood traitors', and had no friends. I had no way to get to her, no way to get her to accept an anonymous enchanted gift, no way to influence her." Ron eyed Hermione. "And she was really the power behind Fudge in the Ministry, so getting him to get rid of her didn't work – she just ignored him and went on with her power mad fantasies."

Ron perked up. "But getting you to think of having Harry teach the DA – wow, the hardest thing about that was keeping you from going too far! One of the timelines had you pushing Harry into becoming a Hogwarts Professor so he could teach everyone DADA. That was something that went wrong in a hurry." Ron shook his head.

Hermione smirked a bit. "Why wasn't _that_ okay?"

Ron fell completely serious. "Because Umbridge was every bit as good as I am at manipulating situations, and she wasn't going through time to do it as far as I could tell … which means she was _better_. As soon as Harry built a positive political foundation under himself, Umbridge worked to eliminate his support," Ron looked away into a corner of the room, "usually starting with you. Mostly she had you killed by a potions explosion. So instead of confronting her and losing you, we baited her into thinking she was winning … up until you led her to the centaurs."

"What about the fight at the Ministry?" Hermione asked quietly.

Ron sighed and ran his right hand through his hair.

"I re-ran that fight over a hundred times. We kept losing, and we kept dying. I finally got it so that we killed all the Death Eaters. In response, Voldemort went insane and stole a few muggle nukes – set them off in London, Edinburgh, Birmingham, Glasgow. When we left them all alive, and Sirius survived, I got a message from the final battle passed down from Sirius – he needed to die to get Harry in the right frame of mind to succeed." Ron looked directly at Hermione. "He accepted it, and volunteered. It wasn't a _good_ solution, but it worked."

Hermione's face hardened. "And sixth year's … activities?"

Ron got up, seemingly ignoring her question, and picked out a notebook from the hidden shelves. Most of the notebooks looked in good shape – this one was worn, and some pages were detached and stuffed back between the covers. "Read this," he said simply.

Hermione took it and carefully opened the cover. The notebook was small – A6 size – and the sewn in pages had become detached from frequent handling. The writing was Ron's messy scribble, in pencil, and some parts seemed heavily smeared. She could make out most of it, however.

 _… going to be the worst year yet – and in some ways, worse than what will happen after, too. The alienation that Harry and Hermione will each feel is necessary; without it, neither will survive the year after. It will build on the hardships that they have suffered in the past, and will give them the power and determination they can get in no other way. You have to accept going in that you may never be able to repair your friendship with Hermione, and it may never grow into what you want. I know that I'd rather have her alive and hating me than have her dying as my girlfriend. I don't think I've changed that much in two years that you'd feel differently, so you'll come to the same conclusions I have; both Harry and Hermione have to survive. Harry because he saves the world. Hermione because she makes the world worth saving…_

 _… you'll have to use a series of short loops to successfully ensnare Lavender, and it is_ imperative _that you not vomit when she calls you "Won-Won". A little opposition to Harry's romance will help him commit to it, no matter how much you want to smooth the way. Don't take your focus off Harry, but give Neville as much support as you can without making it obvious; Neville is the one man we should all try to emulate, and it is his strength that will save the school while you are saving Harry so he can save us all…_

Hermione closed the cover softly. She considered a while, Ron waiting patiently for her attention to return to the real world.

Finally, she said, "What does this mean, 'short loops'?"

"Um, where?"

Hermione opened the notebook and pointed out the passage. "Oh, right. Um, Lavender wasn't attracted to me, and I wasn't attracted to her, but she was the best choice. I used the time turners to replay each meeting until I found an approach she fell for, and I had acted the way she demanded so she wouldn't break up with me, so that you and Harry could become who you needed to be to survive." He shrugged. "I was surprised that physical interaction with her never made me feel less repulsed – I thought that I would eventually begin to like her, but it never happened. At least she got something out of it."

Hermione's eyes flashed with anger. "So you think that getting groped by The Great Ron Weasley makes up for being lied to and manipulated?"

Ron snorted, "I think that she could tell that I wasn't every enthused about pawing her, especially in public, and I had to constantly talk fast and do damage control every time she wanted a public snogging session. What I _meant_ ," Ron gave a significant look to Hermione, "was that I taught Lavender some flawed DADA tricks. The reason she was recommended was because in every timeline where I _didn't_ date her, she … lived." Hermione was startled by Ron's defense, and was still. "And she hated it. She ended up as the plaything of Death Eaters, sometimes she broke and joined them. Her knowledge of the DA would kill a lot of us if she shared with the wrong people … and one time when I was putting off a snogging session, I asked her if she'd ever join the Death Eaters." He shrugged. "She said she'd rather die. I made sure she got her wish."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Hermione processing, and Ron patiently waiting for Hermione's next question. Ron carefully placed the battered notebook back on the shelf and then sat while Hermione stared off into space.

"Why haven't you gone back and re-done the battle so that Fred lives?" she asked quietly.

Ron gestured to the two time turners hanging in the hidden shelves. "I can't use them anymore. You obviously haven't thought about how the time turners work."

Hermione's eyebrow raised at Ron, but he was remarkably unaffected.

"Oh, come on. I'm not saying you're unintelligent – you just haven't thought this through yet. Look at the pegs – I've only got two turners now, the minimum needed for a relay trip into the far past. What happens to a set of turners when the point from which they came back is passed?"

Hermione's forehead wrinkled as she thought.

Ron didn't wait for her to puzzle it out. "They disappear is what. The point where I sent back information to fix Lockhart's wagon? Wiped out as we passed through it with a successful resolution, so I didn't go back, so the time turners didn't end up in my collection. They disappeared off my pegs, and that's that." He took a breath.

"Now, we've won the final battle against ol' Snake-Face, and any further meddling with the decisions that brought us here could easily end up with us heading into a future where I wasn't desperate enough to send the time turners back at all. Watch." Ron's command was forceful, and Hermione carefully observed as Ron tried to pick up the two lone time turners from their hanging pegs. As his hand grew near, they turned translucent and insubstantial, and Ron's hand passed through them.

"I don't think that you really figured out what I've been doing. I've been accepting notebooks from Older Rons since I was seven years old. And each time, they faded out of existence, because what I do makes it so that that particular them never happens. I'm the one that maneuvers and bespells people, sometimes to their deaths, because I'm not smart enough or clever enough or complex enough to figure out how to save them. The Ron that exists through all this," Ron waved his hand vaguely, "is the one that has never been brave or focused or determined enough to unmake his universe so that a better one can be made. Even though I could _become_ him, I never do. I'm the one that gets the shitty end of the stick, the one that has to take their complaints and try to craft a future that's not worth unmaking, wondering how many people can I save and how far can I push you before you break." He took a deep breath.

"It's over, Hermione. I am done playing with fate, unmaking decisions because they weren't good enough. I'm going to make decisions – even if they're not right the first time, and live with what I have chosen. All I can do is the same as what everyone else can do – we just try to live our lives in peace and try to be happy."

They sat together as Ron joined her on the edge of the bed. _He never let us know he was suffering._ Hermione's mind was skittering about and wasn't paying attention, though, as there was a loose thread in her brain that was shouting for attention.

"Wait a minute!" she suddenly exclaimed. "You can't change anything in time that you've already seen! How did you change all those times when you were trying to chat up Lav?"

Ron smirked. "Surely you can figure it out? If you can't change anything you _have_ seen, then you can change anything you _haven't_ seen. And how does a Wizard un-see anything?"

"Memory charms …" Hermione breathed, a little stunned. "So …" her mind whirled as she spoke her thoughts while solving the problem, "… you … obliviated yourself and then told yourself what to try on the next round … and you had to make a record somewhere …"

"I wrote down what my younger self had to try next, and then handed the notebook and time turners over. I've got quite a list of ways not to approach that girl …" Ron chuckled. "Apparently, my first approach went well until I asked her if there was some way that she could make her hair a little more like yours – she _really_ didn't take that well."

A small chuckle. "I suppose not."

There was more silence.

Finally, Hermione asked, "How do I know that you aren't doing short loops until I agree to marry you?"

"Are you irritated with me now?" Ron's question threw Hermione for a moment, but she nodded. "And have you been intensely irritated with me in the past?" Hermione couldn't help the grin as she nodded.

"The way this works," said Ron as he leaned forward in his chair, "is that if I was looping, you would remember a very happy past with me – since I would have fixed everything in the past – and you would be only slightly irritated with me in the present until I could go back and fix that, too. If you remember an imperfect past relationship …" Ron trailed off and raised his eyebrows at her in invitation.

"… then you aren't manipulating me!"

"Then I'm not manipulating you through time," Ron corrected. "I could still be trying to manipulate you through my amazing powers of observation and charm."

He joined Hermione as she laughed at that.

When she sobered, Hermine looked at Ron calculatingly. "I think that I only need one more explanation." She took a deep breath. "Why did you leave us in the tent?"

Ron looked away, got up and started looking at his hidden shelves. "I had something to do. Harry and you couldn't know why I was leaving, so I had to have an excuse. I had used jealousy as a cover in the past so I could duck out and attend to things, it seemed to work for this occasion, too."

"What did you need to do?"

Ron looked at her steadily, but did not answer.

"What was it, Ron?"

Ron took a deep breath. "You are concerned that you may be manipulated. The only way that you can be sure that you are not being controlled in any way by me is to reflexively refuse my offer, which implicitly assumes that I am asking you to marry me in the hopes that you will accept. That course of action ignores the possibility that I may have figured out your strategy of refusal, and then propositioned you in the expectation that you will refuse me, thus putting you on the path I desired to manipulate you into taking in the first place. Correct?"

An extremely flustered Hermione nodded in assent.

"And if I offered any incentives for you to marry me, that could also be considered a form of manipulation. So I cannot offer you a ring or any other trinket until I have your answer. But before you give me that answer, you should probably consider something."

Hermione's eyes were still locked on Ron, so he continued, "Any course of action based on what anyone else does can be manipulated. So can any decision based on feelings – every guy knows that a young witch who isn't aware of how pretty she is can easily be led into making some … questionable … decisions. The only thing that I cannot mess with under any circumstances is what you want. So answer me based on what you really want, what you are actually looking for in your life, and you can rest easy that this is truly your choice."

Hermione nodded along with Ron's explanation. "You can't tell me what you were doing?"

"I can't answer that question."

"Can you answer the question after I answer _your_ question?"

"I can't answer that question, either."

"Ah-ha!" Hermione announced. "If your activity didn't have anything to do with asking me to marry you, you could give me an answer, so you left because you were planning on proposing and your errand could be considered an inducement for me to say yes!"

Ron held up his hand to stop her. " ** _Unless_** I know that _any_ question I answer could be considered an inducement or manipulation, so I refuse to answer anything until you respond to my proposal."

Hermione grumped, "Damn, you weren't supposed to think of that."

Ron calmly walked over and knelt on one knee in front of her. "First, language! And second: so, will you respond to my proposal?"

Hermione cocked her head to the side. "Let me see the ring again."

Ron shook his head, "Nothing doing. Gimme an answer, and then we can talk. No answer, no talk."

"Really?"

"Really."

"You realize that not answering my questions could be considered inducement for me to accept your proposal, and would therefore be manipulation?"

Ron snorted. "I'm just not answering questions until an answer is received. I will answer your questions after you give me an answer, but my willingness to talk is not based on what your answer _is_ – just that you give me one."

"So you are manipulating me into giving you an answer!" Hermione almost shouted in triumph.

" _An_ answer," Ron responded mildly. "Whatever answer you give is still completely dependent upon what you truly desire. And far be it from me to manipulate you into being courteous," he snarked.

"Hmm," she pondered.

"But before you answer me, I'd like you to consider two things," Ron said. "First, consider the conversation we just had. I think that I've proven that I can be your intellectual equal in at least one area. Second, I'm not rolling over for your demands. I am your social equal as well. I'm not asking for you to commit to a marriage where you need to babysit your husband, or where you can look down on him. I'm asking for your hand in marriage, but only if it comes with your respect. And I'm doing my best to insure that there is no way you can claim you were manipulated into giving whatever answer you give."

Hermione looked intently at Ron. He placidly looked back from down on his knee, not showing anything other than a surface calm.

An impish smile broke out on Hermione's face. "Yes," she announced.

Ron lunged forward to hug her, but was met with an upraised hand. "Now I want answers," she demanded.

Ron looked a bit hurt. "I happen to think that finding out that I'm going to be happy for the rest of my life deserves a little celebration, Hermione."

She lunged at Ron, and the shared a strong hug for longer than Molly would have liked. Hermione let go, sat back down on the bed, and then demanded, "Talk!"

Ron sat down, too, and began, "I figured out how to use runes to send a small-ish object back in time … pretty far. Along with a few other special rune sequences that I developed, that made it possible to set something up that I figured would be a perfect betrothal gift for you." He casually added, "And I spent a lot of that time I was gone talking to Kreature, making sure that Snape was in place to lead Harry to the Sword of Gryffindor, making sure that the DA wasn't completely destroyed or betrayed, stuff like that."

Hermione was not allowing herself to be distracted. "So what is this gift?"

Ron grinned a little. "Kreature led me to a rare book from the Black library and made a copy. It was a one-of-a kind title, perfect bait, and I made, what was it – about twenty copies of Kreature's copy. Then I took apart the binding and added my runes to make it a hook, and then I sent all the copies back in time with money and instructions for sending them out by owl post."

Hermione was not happy that Ron wasn't getting to the point, and her expression showed it. Ron, however was finding this enjoyable, and his grin was increasing. "The book was sent over twenty years into the past, and was distributed to all the casualties that I knew were going to happen."

"Who?"

"Well, Dumbledore for one. Snape, too. And just about every Death Eater I can think of: the Carrows, Rookwood, Yaxley, Doholov, the LeStranges, Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Parkinson …"

"Mulciber?"

"Yes, I think I got him, too."

"And what did this 'hook' do to them?"

"Well, firstly, it reinforced their desire to collect books. Rare knowledge, offbeat diaries, complete spell collections, bestiaries, anything. And then …"

"WHAT?" The anticipation really was doing a number on Hermione.

"They had to leave it all in their will to the top student of the next Hogwarts graduating class. Which we all know will be you."

Hermione's mouth was opening and closing soundlessly. Her skin was pale, and small beads of moisture were appearing on her forehead. her pupils were dilated to an alarming degree.

Offhandedly, Ron said, "If you do this right, you'll have a personal library that will rival Hogwarts' own. But if it's too much pressure, you don't have to try for it …"

Hermione pounced so quickly that Ron wasn't sure there was any windup. And even though she was moving away from the bed, he wasn't ever quite sure how they ended up landing on it …


End file.
